


A Jamming Cup of Java

by thethirdphiladelphiavireo



Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: AU, Can you tell the author is gay for Lauren Lopez, F/M, Fluff, In this universe these two have a happy ending, No singing apocalypse, fight me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-14 21:51:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17516495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thethirdphiladelphiavireo/pseuds/thethirdphiladelphiavireo
Summary: In another life, Emma and Paul meet while they’re still in high school. And this time, Paul’s the barista.





	A Jamming Cup of Java

It was a slow summer afternoon in the lazy town of Hatchetfield. There were no cars or pedestrians to be seen. Outside, clumps of yellow and green pollen rolled down the gutters, coaxed along by a limp breeze. In a small, dimly lit cafe, the only sound from the street was the muted squawking of birds. Sun poured through the storefront windows, spilling over the tables and bouncing off of pristine floors.

 

A teenage boy stood by the register, bracing himself on the hard counter. His glazed eyes bore into the shining hardwood, unseeing. One hand propped up his head while the other lay flat in front of him. A clock ticked above him, hung on the milky brown walls. 

 

Paul, his nametag read. Paul had been standing in the same position for so long he’d lost track. His mind had been swallowed by a comfortable buzz about an hour ago and he hadn’t had a single thought since. 

 

Paul was used to the white noise in his head. Ever since he’d become a high schooler he’d been living on autopilot. He went to Sycamore High, a school for Hatchetfielders who were going to stay in Hatchetfield, not for the reachers trying to get away. Paul had been born in Hatchetfield, he was going to college in Hatchetfield, he was going to find a job in Hatchetfield. He would die in Hatchetfield. 

 

Why not? It was a nice enough place. Living there was like living in a jar of molasses. Not much of anything changed, and sure, you were a little stuck, but life was sweet enough if you weren’t fighting it. 

 

Paul shut his eyes and yawned, glancing back over his shoulder at the clock. His shift would be over soon. Maybe he’d go grab a snack or something from the convenience store down the block when he left. But he’d probably just go straight home.

 

At the sudden chiming of bells from the cafe’s door his head snapped to the entrance. He opened his mouth to rattle off his customary greeting but choked on his own words, jaw snapping shut. 

 

Paul was used to seeing pretty girls. Or, at least, objectively pretty girls. But most of them he’d known for his whole life, from daycare to elementary school to high school, and once you’ve seen a girl stick two crayons up her nose at once it’s kind of hard to see her any other way. In Hatchetfield, meeting someone totally new was a rarity, an anomaly- but Paul was sure he’d never seen the girl who had just walked through the door, flipping her loose hair over her shoulder as she stuffed something in her bag. 

 

She looked to be about his age, with dark eyes and straight brown hair. She was short, too, and Paul was once again struck with the feeling of long, awkward gangliness he’d felt when he had gone through his first big growth spurt, suddenly towering over many of his classmates and unsure of what to do with the newly-gained mass. In fact, he was suddenly aware of a million things: his unkempt hair, the pimple he’d seen in the mirror that morning, his wet-noodle posture. He’d never worried about his appearance like this before, but in thirty seconds this girl had made his heart race faster than he thought it ever had in his life.

 

Paul straightened up from his slouch, resting his hands on the counter. He flashed a quick, faltering smile as the girl looked up at him. She smiled back and Paul swallowed.

 

“Hi,” he began, smoothing out his apron. “What can I get for you?”

 

The girl gave Paul her order- or at least, that’s what Paul assumed she was saying while he gazed into her eyes, admiring the way the soft afternoon light played off of them. When she stopped talking, he realized what he’d been doing and apologized, cheeks burning, asking her to repeat herself.

 

The girl raised her eyebrow but gave him the order again without comment. Paul forced himself to listen, nodding along and mentally repeating her words. She had a nice voice, rich with mystery and maybe a hint of danger. Or maybe Paul was imagining things.

 

Paul set about making her drink, being extra careful to not mess anything up. But it was hard to focus. He was hyper-aware of her presence just behind him. As he bustled about, he cast her a furtive glance. She was leaning on the counter, and she was watching him. Probably to make sure he didn’t fuck up her order. Those eyes once again caught his and he quickly looked down. Focus on the coffee, Paul. 

 

Paul felt his hand shaking a bit as he brought the girl her iced coffee, the blooming condensation chilling his palm. He put it down in front of her and started ringing her up while she dug through her bag. He kept his gaze locked on his task, brows furrowed in exaggerated concentration.

 

When he looked up again to take the girl’s money, she thrust a wad of bills into his waiting hand, her face unreadable. 

 

A tense silence settled over the shop as Paul counted out bills and quarters, his fingers fumbling in his haste.

 

Finally handing back the girl’s change, Paul mentally thanked God that this interaction was almost over. “Have a good day,” he chirped in his best customer-service voice.

 

“Thanks, Paul,” she said as he turned away. Involuntarily, Paul did a double-take. Did this girl know him? Had he just forgotten her? Surely not. He looked at her silently for a moment, mouth half-open as he tried to form a sentence.

 

As if reading his thoughts, the girl pointed at his chest. “ I read your nametag?” 

 

“Oh. Oh!” Paul cleared his throat. “Obviously. Sorry, I’m a bit scattered today.”

 

“No problem,” the girl said, reaching for her coffee. She smiled again and Paul’s chest tightened. What the hell was going on with him?

 

“I don’t think we’ve met before,” she continued. “I’m Emma.”

 

“Nice to meet you, Emma,” he replied, as he’d been trained since his childhood. “I’m Paul. But I, uh, guess you already know that.”

 

Emma laughed a bit, cocking her head. “Nice to meet you, too. Maybe I’ll see you again sometime. You know, if I decide I want some more iced coffee.” She took a sip from her straw, eyes widening a bit. “This is really good,” she said. “You did a nice job.”

 

Paul perked up, meeting her gaze. “So, I guess you’ll definitely be coming back for another?”

 

“You can count on it. See you around, Paul.”

 

With that, she was gone. She vanished as quickly as she’d appeared, with the chiming of bells echoing in her wake. The lively verve that had animated the cafe in her presence was gone too, and Paul settled back into his comfortable slouch, leaning over the counter and burying his face in his hands, cheeks still warm. 

 

He really didn’t want to think about that conversation, he decided. Best to just forget about… Emma altogether. She probably wouldn’t actually be coming back anyways, not after that disaster. She was just being nice.

 

Paul’s mind had just begun to return to peaceful, serene static when he opened his eyes and realized that the previously empty tip jar had something in it. Frowning, he reached in a pulled out a crumpled five dollar bill. Wow. As a barista, Paul was used to dealing with the crabbiest people in the world at some of the earliest hours of the morning. He definitely was not used to being tipped like this. Paul glanced around the empty store and pocketed the money. For the rest of his shift he swore he could feel it on him like a ten-pound weight. Maybe Emma would be back. 

 

Outside, Emma strolled through the abandoned streets of Hatchetfield as the sun sunk lower in the familiar sky. Paul, huh? It wasn’t every day she met someone new in her little town. And he’d been cute too, in an endearing way. She smiled to herself, her chest warm and full. She took another sip of the coffee, cast a look over her shoulder at the distant cafe, and kept walking. 

**Author's Note:**

> Fuccccck I love TGWDLM. Even though it breaks my heart a little more every time I watch it.


End file.
